Happy Birthday, Detective Stabler
by Foreword
Summary: It's Elliot Stabler's 45th birthday and his wife has a special surprise planned for him.


_A/N: In honor of Elliot Stabler's birth date of 10/20/1966. In my happy little universe of denial, "Smoked" never took place: _

Happy Birthday, Detective Stabler

_You say it's your birthday__  
><em>_we're gonna have a good time__  
><em>_I'm glad it's your birthday__  
><em>_Happy birthday to you._

_The Beatles_

Elliot woke up and realized with a start that, judging by the amount of daylight, he'd seriously overslept. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and saw that it was almost 9 am. He'd set his alarm for 6:30, planning to go for a run before showering and heading in to the precinct. He'd promised to drop the twins off at school on his way because Dick had a science project that he said was too bulky to carry on the bus. Why hadn't Kathy woken him up?

He was just pushing the covers aside to make a quick dash for the shower when his wife appeared in the doorway carrying a tray.

"You're finally awake," she said with a wide smile. "Happy birthday, babe."

He groaned, realizing that today was his 45th birthday, something he'd been too busy to even think about. "Did you turn off my alarm?" he asked.

Kathy set the tray down on the nightstand and nudged him so he'd move over to make room for her in the bed. "I did," she confessed. "I called Cragen and let him know you'd be in late. He said," and here she gave him mysterious smile "to take your time and enjoy your morning. I intend to make sure you do just that."

"Oh, really?" he asked, returning the smile as she bent to kiss him. Her long hair fell across his face, smelling of the herbal shampoo she'd used as long as he'd known her. He had to admit it had been nice to sleep in. After a week of long hours as they worked on a particularly difficult case of a missing child, he was exhausted. The mother had been sure her ex-husband was responsible, but it had turned out to be something far more sinister-a child pornographer who had targeted the girl at her dance class and snatched her on her way home from school. The case had broken when suggestive pictures of the girl in skimpy dance costumes had surfaced on the internet. They'd returned her to her parents late the day before; frightened and confused but thankfully physically unharmed.

"Is that coffee?" he asked, looking over her shoulder at the tray. She laughed and reached for the carafe, pouring him a mug of the steaming, fragrant beverage. He propped himself up on his pillows and accepted it gratefully.

"I made you French toast, eggs and bacon," she told him, "All of your favorites."

She picked up the tray, unfolded the legs and placed it over his lap.

"Thanks," he said, realizing just how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten a real meal in days, grabbing snacks on the go as they'd scrambled to solve the case before the girl was lost forever. Kathy watched as he tucked into his food, smiling at his enthusiasm.

"The kids all got off to school?" He asked between mouthfuls of food. She nodded. "Dick didn't really need a ride; he was just playing along so you wouldn't catch on."

"Sneaky," he said with respect. He'd expected to come home that night to a special dinner and cake, but birthday breakfast was a total surprise. "What about Eli?"

"Jenny picked him up for play group half an hour ago."

He picked up a slice of crisp bacon and bit into it. It was a rare indulgence these days, since his cholesterol levels had started rising when he turned forty. "So," he said, eyeing his wife with a playful gleam, "We're totally alone? When's the last time that happened?"

"I can't even remember," Kathy laughed. She wore a loose shirt over a white camisole top and, he was pleased to see, no bra. He reached with his free hand under her shirt and caressed one nipple to a hard point under the camisole.

"Better finish your breakfast," she said her eyes warm and inviting. "Wouldn't want your food to go to waste."

Elliot picked up the tray, set it on the floor next to the bed and reached for his wife. "Suddenly," he said. "It's not food I'm hungry for." He started to pull her down on the bed next to him but she put her hand on his chest and stopped him. He looked at her in surprise. Had he read her signals wrong?

"It's your birthday," she said in a low, husky voice. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back against the pillows. He watched as she slipped the shirt off her shoulders and then pulled the camisole over her head, tossing both on the floor next to the tray. When he reached for her breasts, she pushed his hands away. Finally getting the message, he lay back and watched as she slipped out of her pants and underwear, adding them to the pile next to the bed.

With a broad smile, she straddled him, his lower half still under the covers, and putting her hands on his chest, drew her nails down his torso in long, slow strokes, causing a sensation somewhere in between pleasure and pain. He felt himself begin to stiffen in response and when she bent her head and licked lazy circles around his nipples, he groaned and reached for her. Again, she pushed his hands away.

"It's _my_ birthday," he laughed. "I don't get to touch you?"

She gave him a stern look and continued to tease her way down his bare chest, a combination of warm tongue and sharp nails that made it next to impossible for him to lie still. When she reached his waist, she raised herself up and pulled the blankets aside, then focused her attention on removing the boxer briefs he always slept in and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

When her warm mouth engulfed him, he wasn't entirely successful in stifling a loud moan of satisfaction. Forcing himself to play along with her game he lay back and enjoyed her ministrations. After a week of being on the run and making on-the-spot life or death decisions, it was nice to let someone else be in control. Actually, it was more than nice. It was…amazing. Risking another look of reprimand, he buried his hands in her silky hair and watched as she pleasured him. Twenty-six years of marriage and she still turned him on more than any woman he'd ever met.

When he felt himself close to the edge, he gently pulled himself away. At her look of surprise, he said in a husky voice, "It's _my_ birthday, I want to finish _with_ you." She smiled and let him guide her so that she was straddling him again, poised over his aching erection. He held her hips as she lowered herself down his hard length, focusing on holding off so he could bring her to the brink along with him. As she moved, he circled a nipple with one thumb and her moist center with the other, until he heard her breathing quicken and felt her tense against his hand. Only then did he allow himself to succumb.

After, they lay together in a moist tangle of limbs, her head on his chest. He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. "That," he said softly, "was the best birthday present ever." She chuckled and raised her head to grin at him.

"Oh, that was nothing," she said with a teasing smile. "Wait until you see what I have planned for tonight, Detective Stabler."


End file.
